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Inconstant

June 26, 2011

She had walked to the end of the long, dark pier, and listened to the water lap its base. She settled down onto damp wood beneath stars, beneath bats wheeling overhead. This was just the sort of place she had been told was unsafe for her to be alone.

But she found comfort in the inconstant nature of this spot, in the quiet tempered by night noises, in the fact that everything could change at any moment. After all, she knew he would not find her there, even if she had told him exactly where she would be.

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